I wonder at times where I should begin? At this moment in time with my cup of tea, steeping with fresh Earl Grey in the kitchen, or the past month of trials and tribulations and how I finally came to the word “Bliss”.

This month has been far from that word and I feel as if I have been climbing a large mountain to get to the top, but I know, I am so close to getting there, so close to flashing my light for others, for me, to feel a success.

Success being defined by becoming emotionally and physically in tune within my own mind, body and soul. It feels as though anger has clasped around my wrists holding me back with its vines from breaking free, from moving forward from finding peace.

Exhaustion has crept into my body, pushing the anxieties to an all time high and the mental state bringing such bad thoughts and nightmares into my world that I though I had a leash on. Yet again, they protrude out of the closet and walk into the darkness of my mind and pick; pick on each aspect, each ability, and begin to define me back into something I was so determined I would not be again.

I like to think that all the hard work was not wasted, though this month made me feel as though I flushed it all out. I chalk this up to not reaching inside, not spending the time I needed on those areas, but being pushed and prodded by obligations of life. So right now inside my mind I am screaming “STOP!” “ENOUGH!”

I am taking back my health, and will begin to focus once again on what is best for me. What limitations I have, what obstacles I see, and how to learn how to hurdle jump them all, to continue the destination I see for my future, my future of hope.

Yesterday as my body phyiscally came to his maximum of what it could endure. It chopped me down to my knees as I fell. It made me look at life from a different height, from a different perspective and to see what trauma I have been putting it through.

Normally I would have wanted to do this in the comfort of my own home, but obligations forced me to deal and learn to accept this challenge in public. As I had to return to work, and the body could not stabilize and hold me upright without falling, I had no choice but to sit down in a bright red wheelchair. Left to myself with sunglasses on, I had about five minutes to accommodate, adjust before the first guest came up with their needs.

Eyes red, soul feeling deflated like a balloon who had sat in the sun too long and shrivelled, I had to meet the obligations face to face. Maneuvering this unit which I had no practice in, running into walls, scraping my hands down the textured wallpaper to try and help me move myself, hitting boxes and my knees, I began to get a small grip on this new avenue of road.

I realized how unfriendly the world felt at this level. I could not reach for things, I could not just walk over to the desk to pick up the paperwork I needed and I could not get around to the side of my desk in my office. I also needed to give myself more time to get there.

It was challenging, but then it began, a feeling like freedom that I had not experienced. Normally on my cane, I struggle with the spasms the pain, and it seems so hard to get up, out of the chair and the movements forward cause my learned pregnancy breathing to come in as my abs work hard to keep me moving, holding the body so carefully; one wrong move can make me come crashing down to all fours.

As one person requests a need for an item and insists it’s too far to walk, they back peddle as they realize the comment they just made. Inside I was not angry, I had some peace. I could continue living, do what I need to do or like to, but not use all my energy up just to get upright. It gave my body a healing break. By day two I was becoming an expert with my four wheeled unit, and I felt more hope and enlightenment take hold. The catch was the sorrow I also still felt was because I did not let myself take the time to grief and accept an area that I have spent seventeen years avoiding. Fear!

Scared that again this will define me, this will make me feel as though I am weak, yet it did the opposite and gave me power. It gave me optimism of a future that won’t be so bleak. I have been blessed over the years and when things were so bad, something would take over and up I would come again. I feel as though I am a continuous tidal wave dependent on the pull of the moon, the stars and the amazing cosmic that I love to spend so much time staring at.

I keep stumbling on the aspect of my knees. The thoughts of why this is taking place, why now, what has changed and then I remember a line. I didn’t study much religion, I did attend a bible camp once, but I loved scriptures, hymns and catch myself singing a few songs when I feel I needed a hand.

I felt the empowerment of that small line make sense, make me realize, just maybe each of these times I am knocked down is just another lesson or empowerment to get me back up, to make me succeed in life, to continue to hope, but also it actually gives me more power each time it does knock me to my knees. I just didn’t realize how much.

With that in mind, a new perspective, and my fresh Earl Grey tea chilling beside me, I feel as though my body has cleansed itself of some of it’s restrictions. Maybe tomorrow my day will begin again with a smile and end with the bliss I feel now today.

Like this:

Realism sometimes is such a downer! You know what I am saying, when you look in the mirror and see that you are older, when you begin to walk sideways down the stairs in the morning, and you forget what you were doing when you leave a room. You just stand there looking around.

Realism knocked me in the ass this weekend. I tried to keep it at arms length but no such go, stupid thing! As I sit here on my deck, with my third leg beside me and a realization that this is how it is at times. I have finally come to grips that I will finally pick out my wheelchair for bad days. Those are the days I cannot really walk but want to do things. Instead of putting all my energy into walking, I can then just enjoy. I can still go for walks with Mr. Jones, though both of us had a visual of the pup running down the hill crazily and me yelling, rolling down with her, but the humour lightened the mood.

This is what real life is, no glitz, no glamour just raw moments, built up into great ones that do make us smile and laugh.

So instead of me diving into all this junk, that’s it today. I have decided I am going to live life though my pups interpretations.

They missed a very important one, if I don’t like it, pee on it. Not sure what my neighbors would think but oh well.

The dream job, yes please! I am thinking we could go into a puppery baconery.

The queen and I were discussing some homemade treats, not sure yet if she is contributing to the baking or just the eating. I believe she is contemplating that question.

Happy Sunday, and if realism is kicking you down today, just pee on it and keep moving forward.

As always, love from the third peg legged Woman in Process

P.S when I do hit the store for my wheels, I’m thinking the first question is, how to do wheelies?

Like this:

You can picture the scene, one from a dozen horror films playing the creepy music as the killer walks down the street sliding a shovel. The music intensifies as they finally come to a moment where the shovel knocks something out of their path. Welcome to my world for the past two weeks.

It is not by choice that I have become this person, but find the hormonal roller coaster is intensifying as I am aging and walking with a shovel seems to be the normal thing now.

Some of you are thinking, I so get this and others are thinking, you crazy girl. The catch it’s not just me, even Mr. Jones is seeing a difference in himself as he ages. We laugh how we are shrivelling up and we say is this normal?

It is a normal occurrence for each person, we just wish there was a guide manual on expectations, much like the preganancy manual. Instead we are inundated with flyers on planning your own funeral, life insurance and do you have enough money to retire? I miss the days of just a great catalogue showing up, but I am interested in the two for ones at the restaurant or the early bird specials of course.

All you hear from others is its been good, I found myself, (some days I am still hunting for her) I became more confident with myself and insert the sounds of Charlie Browns teacher here on the optimism. I am optimistic, on a different level.

Someone forgot to mention that the changes can last for ever!!!! You can be on the hot flash roller coaster for years. Blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, blankets off, growl! Fans are going all the time even in winter, a warm spring day and you are telling people to turn up the air conditioner, its so hot. One moment you are kind and gentle like Snow White singing and the next you are Godzilla trying to crush everything in your path.

Do you ever feel like you are getting one part of your life under control and then it feels like the marching band is dragging in the next adventure at the end of the parade? Here comes the great theme music and then ta da, hormones!!! Reminds me of being a teenager. Friends are dealing with acne, some have commented no one tells you hair starts growing crazy here, here and here. Your epilady has become your best friend or you wax on and off, to ensure you keep your confidence level up, and are not being recruited for the circus.

The commercials come on and a sad mushy one gets you (me they always did) or you get caught off guard and the tears start to come rolling out of your eyes. Your like what is this? You continue to work towards better health and before you leave the mirror you always lift your chin and double check there is no hair on your chinny chin chin.

Yup, aging is great, the songs I sing to match the feelings I have, let’s start with do your —— hang low, do the wobble to and fro. Insert whatever you like. It seems to be all parts of he body, no part of the body is safe.

So even though I am struggling with the hormones I do appreciate being able to say things very outspoken and not have as much of the second guessing myself, I mentioned before I am somewhat socially awkward when I talk to people, but this me.

Now as I prep myself for today, I have left the shovel in the garage and am hoping for not another re-enactment on a movie, if I do have one, I could become the next horror writer. I am so cracking up at that and the movie titles are just flooding my head. I was going to write to you about forgetfulness, but I forgot what I was going to write.

When I found these pics, I was thinking they get me!!!

Love always the hot flashing Godzilla, the Woman in Process

Like this:

I had no idea our paths would cross in such a different way today. It is my usual Friday of another week completed and I look back thinking do I remember any of it? It was in a blink of an eye. As I flip my light on, there in my office sits a chest in my one lonely black chair, one that must be lost or misplaced I thought. On the top of the chest was a pink note with not much information for me to start trying to locate whom this may belong to.

I feel the need to apologize to you first Grace, as I needed to try and find a hint of where this chest belonged. I had no idea of the impact you would have on me today, the emotion you brought forth, the pain in my heart after.

As I begin to search for a name, a clue to search our database I knew all to well why this box was here, you must have recently decided to leave this world and head on to a new one to be with your loved one. I pulled pieces out and found your name, some photos, a letter to a member in your family from 1972 telling him he passed his exam and could be a Forester Fireman. The box itself smelled of fire, and inside were prized possessions of fire badges, and other mementos that must have meaned so much to you or you wouldn’t have saved them.

You had the most valuable prize possession in there Grace; a letter to your husband about how much you loved him, cared for him, how grateful you were for him in your life. I only wished I knew who the two of you were in the photos, or if they were of you. You could feel the love you shared, you could see you had built a lifetime together.

I did find who left the chest behind Grace, and I am so sorry they instructed me to throw these possessions out, they were not needed for them. My heart broke at that moment, as I felt like I was throwing away someone’s past, someone’s meaning. To others it might of been paper, to me this was history and for some reason I was given the honour of getting to meet you in a very different manner.

I can only assume what you may have looked like, what your life was about; your delicate handwriting of loops and form, each designing the cursive on perfect rows of unlined paper; not an error, just the feeling that you took your time to write this letter to your husband with care and compassion in the wee hours.

I would loved to have seen more Grace, but your letter was all it took for me to see the most important part of your life. I did learn after some research tonight that your husband is laid to rest not too far from here, I hope you will be at peace now that you are together.

I shared the story and letter with Mr. Jones and he understood as well, why I could not throw it out. So dear Grace, we will bring that letter to you on a day trip out and lay it back to where it belongs with the two of you.

Thank you for sharing a great love story with us in a couple of pages, you really reminded us how special our love is and how frail life can be, so we need to ensure we do not miss out on an opportunity to tell each other. Grace your name will be part of my memories.

Love from the honoured Woman in Process

R.I.P Grace 1931-2017

Like this:

It is incredibly early as I enjoy my caramel Starbucks coffee sitting under my electric blanket with the fireplace on. I spend my mornings checking out news, jokes and entertaining myself before the day really begins into the world of duty, but right now it is my time to be one within myself.

Miss Sasha Rose joins me on my side of the couch, once she realizes I’m peeking through the curtains waving to her. Apparently my side was way better, as she jumps up to the couch and is entertaining both of us with a new outlook to the outside world, her tail just a wagging and her excitement, as she explores searching out to the right side of the window as if she has never seen it before. Just for reference this is a series of twelve foot windows, I’m sure she has seen it.

With the weather melting and a new outdoor pool in the backyard, she is making sure she takes in all the new experiences of the season change. Wadding in the puddles, skating on the ice in the morning and our favourite Tom Cruising across the deck; this is quite the sight to see, she definitely reminds me of Scooby Doo here. Each moment brings such laughter to us and I had to put it into a word.

Snortule- defined as the big suck of inhaling air, as you begin to laugh and snort at the same time. This is normally numerous snortules and you cannot stop. I recommend at least five good snortules before returning to adulthood and looking like life sucked the energy out of you. Also recommend breaking down for daily snortule moments to increase your life expectancy.

I realized the other day that this was happening quite often, (that’s the snortules, not the life sucking) and it always makes me laugh harder. How can you not snortule?

I begin to laugh harder and crack myself up, a comic relief on stage. The Doo, has been entertaining me endlessly, with our trip to Starbucks for her puppichino and whipped cream flying everywhere as she inhales it. I had to check my purse, hair and glasses for residue, an armoral wipe was in need for the car. She is the comic relief to each of my days, she is the fun, the life, the energy.

(I feel like Wilson in these photos, “Hey Neighbour”, but look you can see a bit of me).

She is learning an all new perception on photobombing, and I’m sure in no time she will be taking her own selfies with our cats. Insert a snortule here.

The perception of a dog, their attention to detail, their commitment to just being them all all times, brings a person back to that perspective. Some days you have to remind yourself it’s okay to just lay around, watch the traffic, bark out the window, eat and then lay back down. Reality is to take those moments of zen, and harness them with your breath and actually listen to the body.

It took me this long to one day finally grasp the theory of my breath to body, I started yoga over twenty years ago, apparently life just adjusted my glasses with time. I learned then to breath into movements without thinking, naturally and recently reminded myself how far you can go in a movement, how much you can change perspective and how you can fill your life with more snortule moments.

My crazy brain has been salsa dancing on some of these times of practice and after a bit I have managed to wade through the pool to the real items, get into the part of my mind and then calm down the nervous centre. My healing time on my last relapse was incredible, shortest one to date and missing a couple classes in a row, my body is not happy with me, but he was happy to return, my muscles screamed another story.

The physical shape is changing but it’s more of the psychological nature that I am intrigued by. Add in my new regime of how I can eat, (remember Hannibal piece in my mouth trying to put the jaw in) it’s lots of juicing, smoothies, rice, steamed vegetables, soft foods, as my mouth does not open too far, my body seems to be happy with me again. I truly believe this was the next step in my path of recovery. I use the breath for the fears, the anxiety, and I allow myself to tear when I am in practice of yoga if that’s what it needs to release. I even brought one of my dreams and hopes back to the table to work on getting my certification, for pilates. I just re-added it back to the dream board of my goals, so will see where this takes me.

On that, I just realized it’s Friday, can I get a hell ya! And I need to find my Doo who is wadding through the mud in the yard so she can attend day care and play. This way she can have her own snortule moments. Wishing you a weekend of these, please see above should you require assistance on your snortule.

Love always the snortule loving, maybe tooting Woman in Process

Like this:

It’s 3:30 in the morning, I get up for usual acquaintance in the middle of the night, my toilet and a brief conversation with my cat who hangs out on the heat register. He meows constantly as though he is telling me his most important thoughts and dreams. He finishes his conversation and I head back to my room to try and get the last few hours of sleep.

It is the middle of the night, that can be so challenging, my thoughts wandering to what ifs, the things I must do, the duty, and the unknown of life in general. It normally takes quite some time to finally get it to shut off in my little igloo; I keep my window open or a fan on for the whole year, so it’s a tad chilly.

Today was my usual day of self discovery in my session. At times it feels as though I’m not changing, yet after a few thoughts pop out I receive a new gift of self discovery, where the curve on the road is continuously changing, weaving, even though I may feel it is not.

My little miss is on another grand Paddington Bear adventure into Iceland and the fear overcomes me each time she travels and because she travels alone, more often than not. My anxiety is shooting through the roof with issues and putting fires out at work, yet all I wanted to do was spend a few quiet moments sitting and talking to her. Thank goodness we did talk the night before otherwise my heart would have been broken.

I am living some of my grand adventures with her, at times when we go together on a trip, at times as a family but also through her photography, her journalism writing and the happiness you see in her face when she is somewhere new. I may not be able to fly a long way, due to my issues, but I’m thinking she may have to take me here, as it looks amazing, and breath taking.

I do have to say both Mr. Jones and I both provide her with the usual safety speech as she is meeting new friends, but I always add, make sure you have pictures of your new friends and names. What I really wanted to say is; a copy of their passport and a swab but that’s going over the edge in my mind, right? Or could I just label it as being the protective mother bear.

When I was sixteen, I had to meet with a specialist and was told you would not have children, very unlikely. So the surprise of my little miracle girl was pretty amazing, but also at this point being told that, I had to change. My mind had refocused on other areas that I let become priority and that had went to the bottom of my list, as it was not meant to be and then here it was happening. Even though her biological father was not there for her, Mr. Jones was and still is, he says he forgets she is biologically not his, as to him she is. That is a true father, someone to love you, teach you and keep you safe, that’s a family.

While sitting in my session, I start to describe an area I’m exploring. I had to recently return to an area that causes me great pain, fear and trauma. In a split second it shoots me back to that day and I collapse briefly, gagging, the smell overtakes me. As I come to, I swear, get up and head away from there as quick as I can, tears on my cheeks. Life is messy, sticky, and memories at times are icky. That is what life is, a bundle of all the ick and all the goodness to give us some balance, the Yin and Yang, I think I may have found some recently. I am working on the ickiness of life by becoming my own Nancy Drew, magnifying glass included.

I loved playing the Clue game as a child and I still do. I read mystery books, love watching shows of mystery and can bury myself into a set of clues and not come up for air for a while. I do the same at work when that icky feeling takes over and I know something is off. I work through all the angles, listen to my gut instinct, and read the signs around me, I dissect and solve, even when I know the answer isn’t always great.

Mr. Jones shares a new mystery with me, that we can obtain monthly, delivered to us at home, but they said you have to have the stomach for it. I kind of thought to myself, you deal with some of that in real life, do you think it could help you realize some of the icky parts and the pain it causes you, could you work into the mind of what is actually the reasoning to help you heal? I know it might sound odd, but I’m willing to keep trying to, if it keeps me exploring and diving into areas that can help me continue me be and not be overtaken by the ptsd, not by those sights and smells.

It has its own mind I feel, as if it can pull on one thread on my sweater and unravel weeks or months of work. You then have to work through it and then continue the process. I can see it more when it happens. Just like the clues of a mystery I can see when it is beginning at times in my head or with the anxiety, but I do get caught off guard at times like a swift punch to the face. Those ones I’m trying to figure out, what happened, what was the root, was it brewing for a bit?

So, a few weeks ago I rolled out my yoga mat at class and I have been attending faithfully. It’s not an obsession, but such a learning environment as I channel my breath into each movement, building my strength to fight my own demons and learning how to use the breath to help me; when I have that next episode and scurry away like a mouse instead of the lion that I am.

I am finding a new balance between the ick and the beauty. I know it will take many sessions, but I am ready to harness my energy and continue this healing process. I may also work on some of the anger issues that still overtake me at times, but I know the breath of my body will assist here as well, and maybe a good few kicks at a bag.

I think back to the lady who introduced me to yoga so long ago and how I felt then, and wish I kept it as my daily practice, yet I cannot turn back the time, but change my own perception that maybe it wasn’t the path at that time.

Well on that note, my sleeping Doo is exhausted today, from shopping at the pet store, picking out toys and treats, playing in the dog park, and walking in the sunshine. I wish you the ability to be still, calm the breath and listen to the body. Namaste

Like this:

My legs are salsa-sing all over the room. I am working on reorganizing my hoarding closet and make sure I don’t have eight of the same style of clothing. I have now begun to take Mr. Jones with me while shopping and he has become my new inner voice.

“Don’t you have something like that?”

“Do you like it?” That normally means ummm how do I tell you, Hell No!!!

“That one is a yes.” That means it accentuates my assets well!

I pull each piece out, change my seasons in my closet to the basement and reconfigure the setup. In the background is my new favorite singer and song playing, Bebe Rexha.

The words just keep pouring out as I feel in sync to what she says. “There is a war inside my head sometimes I wish that I was dead, broken. ”

This song! Plus I try to hit each of her tones so I must sound like a drunk cat on the fence, squealing.

I break in between categories in the closet, to pick up an item off the dressing table and use as a microphone, sometimes I think I am still thirteen, singing around my room; somethings never change.

One of my favorite things is to try and take time out and really listen to the music, not just the beat, but to be in the moment, conscious of the feelings it sparks, the words and their depth, the poetry of the song. Such talent these people possess and when you think it is another expression, of their journal, their day to day thoughts, their desires, their heartache, their sorrow, it such such an expression of art.

In the background I have to laugh the song’s chorus on this next song by another artist is,

” Where is my mind?” I ask that to myself on a regular basis, we should talk over coffee.

I find that so many of them are dealing with the same emotions, we are no different than each other, each of us delving into the inner workings and looking for an answer, an answer in being ourselves.

A few weeks ago I began to write this section of a blog, and never finished as my mind has been so crazy, I found the accuracy of it, to be spot on.

As I lay on my bed pondering on the past month, my eyes closing into darkness of my mind, the fireplace blowing on my skin, I listen to my breathing as my body is calming itself, ready to dive into its slumber. The word congestion is what I will use to describe the feeling for a bit. I think it’s a great word, as similar to a cold I feel as though I am stuffed up, not able to express myself. The emotions, my moments of pure joy and life have been buried under tasks, buried so far under the depths of my mind.

I may have fleeting moments, but feel too tired and lazy to express it and then feel constipated by the tension left in my body from not expressing the happiness or sadness I feel. I know let’s talk colds and shit. Seems like life eh?

Yesterday as my body was past exhaustion and I was aiming my attention on getting to my destination, I finally was able to start calming the nerves down and listening to the idle chat around me but, still limiting the amount as it can be overwhelming. The lights bright as we walk into the dimly lit convention center, the adjustment much like the month, adapting but ready for new growth, new life, a new season, a new expression.

For a while I was feeling like a rabid Winnie the Pooh, and was scared for the lives around me. My jaw is always clenched so tight night and day, it seems to have settled down now, thank goodness and I feel lighter and calmer. I feel as if it is the season to renew. I was thinking the other day, how long have I been working on this journey and realized it really never ends, it just keeps changing like the seasons and much like my aged cheese or a fine scotch, more seasoned, more mature, more flavourful outcomes can develop. Maybe my palette is changing?

The feeling of emotional constipation is still there so after a quick run of breaking myself till I tear, I now am feeling more cleared, and ready to wash the rest down the drain as I rinse. I feel at times we must break down to our soul, so we can regrow, renew and find the new path with Dorothy and to my courage.

It is now Sunday, today I’m taking a lesson after the great 125 pound fur baby, I’m just relaxing and keeping things in moderation, yet enjoying the simple tasks of living. After the month of crazy, another bout of the burst eye right after it healed and migraines. I’m ready for sunshine, calmness and ready to welcome the signs of Spring. Might be a bit longer as Mother Nature decided it will storm again and drop the temperatures, but the sun is still shining and it is so beautiful, another picturesque scene and outside looks pretty nice too.

Love always the Hannibal Lectar, Woman in Process

P.S as the tension and damage has caused my jaw to weaken even more, I am now an official ten year old wearing a guard that looks more like they are preventing me from being Hannibal. Not a bad thing for those around me. I don’t always bite, just sometimes. I also drool and slur a lot more!

Like this:

I have to tell you I write on my phone or as the Bend & Snap girl says (when she made a cameo on Friends) my mobile and you know I am doing the voice. I cannot find my drafts to pull them into the light and add to space, so I dust the computer off, reset the passwords, swear a little (a lot) and find fourteen blogs in limbo land. Mother of pearl! I should rethink my method of madness. I am cackling here.

Once I was back to work from the work excursion and the flights, life became hectic. I’m in a customer service job and we are noticing the economy and the hopefulness change around us. People are beginning to feel less burdened and seem to be making steps to come back to their regular activities and living again.

When the economy changes you see so much depression, hardships on people and it is a waiting game, waiting till it ends or the news tells us so and then everyone changes. There is a new buzz in the air, like the feeling of Spring. (Spring is still a ways away here, with all this snow.)

Last year each of the workers at Mr. Jones work had to take a month off unpaid and we saw rolled back wages. We were still grateful as he was one of the lucky ones. For me, it was to keep squeezing and pinching in the job and cover hours till the economy came back; now we see it, but we are still pinching to help us go forward, to be cautious.

This is one of the many cycles of life and sometimes you get to see what you are made of during those challenges. As anyone does, we think we can’t make it, we scream why me? We cry, we hit our pillows and then we have faith and the world seems more colorful, our optimism returns.

We stripped as much as we could in our daily and monthly expenses and just kept looking at options. It was a start, but when one is focusing on their mental health and working on adapting, some things had to slide and get picked up later, some things were many years in the making and we needed to make some changes.

This was one avenue or ball I let dip for some time. I believe my financial adviser and doctor have seen me more in a month and a bit, than over the past few years. I am working on balancing this part of my life. Just as we worked on my mental health we stripped every aspect of the financial down and are rebuilding, refocusing and putting goals in place.

This one was a tough one, as I have very bad trust issues, so to sit down with someone and even say here is where my financial is and originally where it was, was challenging. I took a deep breath and did it, like pulling off a band-aid. This person worked their butt off and helped us get into a much better position in only a couple weeks. The goals we have of more house renovations are not a dream, the financial security we know we can grow is wonderful!

Now for the next change: I am a shopper for clothes, this comes from being young and not having clothes that fit, outgrowing them and cutting open my favorite shoes, as my feet were getting to big. I really loved those sneakers. (I teared here, I even had colored laces in them).

My first job I bought clothes at every payday and began to fill my closet and then came the accessorizing. I was so happy to have something that I didn’t feel like I was holding my breath in or have pins holding it together. I became a regular clothes and shoe shopper, but I do wear them all, from regular non branded clothes to brand names. I am a clothes hog.

This is one of my weaknesses. I am afraid I won’t have anything one day and be back to those moments of trying to hide in clothes that do not fit; funny how I can’t seem to let that go. Maybe this is an avenue I work on for this year. I know that life is so much more than what we have, what we wear, it’s the goodness of our soul wanting to help, so if I do it in Old Navy or Kate Spade no one is going to care, it’s just me. Oh and just for reference I never buy a full price, I always get a good deal buying either. Let us talk about the pants I found on clearance for $1.97!

Anyways, when Mr. Jones first met me he also saw my pantry and was like are you stocking up for the apocalypse? He didn’t run. Cans on top of cans, stocked and categorized in my pantry. I was afraid of not having food or running out.

He kept reassuring me and it has taken me twenty one years with him of helping me work on decreasing how much I buy when I shop and now I’m okay to just pick up a few things. Sometimes I do panic when I see the pantry doesn’t have canned food in it, and he laughs and says okay we will get a few cans, as he understands it all to well. Maybe this year I focus my canned food habit and stock someone else’s pantry. The soup kitchen is just a few blocks away, and I know they can use it.

The doctor, we are in some ways starting where we left off, besides he is new to me, another change. Picking up each issue and saying oh right, blah blah blah. I am big on not having drugs put into my body, as it does not respond well, (insert the worst theatrical death scene, that is my body as I gag to take anything) I am determined to keep lifestyle a big aspect and have found lately a new determination with that.

I am a bit of a zombie looking creature these days but that is not by choice. My left eye blood vessels keep breaking (monthly), and I look as if someone took a red crayon and colored outside the lines. When you are trying not to let anyone see it, it truly is like the big mole Austin Powers keeps talking about.

At Starbucks the poor lady couldn’t look away from my bleeding eye and became nervous and was fumbling. People stare, clients go into the “Omg what happened?” Just saying I have made up some great stories and laughed at the end so they knew I was kidding.

I am having fun with it, as there is nothing I can do right now, but they are working on all my tests. I’m kind of like meh to it now, because I feel it’s just another medical hurdle; did I mention I was a hurdle jumper in school? Oops and then there was the accident, oh well, I will be over it soon, just have faith.

This week brings upon us the season of love, I have to wonder who thought up to have a day celebrating it, because I see it daily. From dealing with financial goodies, years of medical issues, children and the stickiness of life, Mr. Jones is always there. He is the constant on the changes of life and the challenges.

This week he was adventuresome and went for the first time to a couples massage, I believe I have him converted as he has never gone out for a massage. (His daughter became a massage therapist and he has had one massage, in his life!) He said he had lots of anxiety, but now I’m like, shall I book again? Yes please! He will be a spa junkie for massages like the rest of the famjam. Wishing you a week and year of love with your significant other, in all the stickiness.

Love always the red eyeballed, cliff note writing, Woman in Process

P.S. I know you probably want to see it, but the picture is trapped on the mobile and I guess it is time to update my vintage hand crank computer version or at least add a new hamster to it.

Like this:

I have been writing blogs and with the changes on the site been slow to get anything posted. This is a letter I recently wrote regarding showing how grateful I was.

Dear Mr. Airline,

I have been humming about sending you my note but realized if you don’t know you cannot learn from it. The catch is, this enters a very personal space of my life, so I know it will be kept in confidence.

I was flying home from xyz from a work conference. I was so pleased to get to go, as I have spent over the past year working with assistance with PTSD from numerous traumatic events. The flight there was the first time I didn’t feel overly emotional getting on a plane and was feeling optimistic about the whole trip. I was so excited and enjoyed the week of fellowship and blessings.

Upon the return I want to tell you about a few people, places and how things began. This might assist you in the future and how grateful I was for two workers.
It was 4am and I am up and ready to go downstairs to my hotel around 5. We are waiting for our cab and the hotel has advised it is coming. Needless to say, our taxi finally arrived and we got to the airport at 6 am. We already knew we were late which is not us, and it was stressing us out, as we we were heading home and there is no place we would rather be.

As I approach the lady for the flight, that was when she started into her reprimand on the flight, the time and it just kept going on and on. I am quiet at this point, as this gate keeper decides if I get home to my family and my dog. Four days without her is hard, as she is there for the Ptsd. She keeps continuing on, tells me my bag is overweight and I say charge me.

Dumbfounded she says you don’t want to take anything out? I said nope charge me. My insides are screaming and it’s being added by the MS that I deal with starting to take over. She keeps talking about the time etc, I finally say in my small voice, just for reference, I know we are late, we are sorry, we have been waiting for our cab since this time.

I take my bag over to another lady at an Xxxxxxzzz sign and say xcxxxc? She says yes. Both are not seeming to be all that happy that morning. These jobs, like mine are where we play actresses. We smile, we do the work, each guest needs to be separated from the last.

At this point I hear her fumbling my name out loud and she has just realized another thing. At that moment all I want is to run, scream into something, but I am cool and turn. She is stuttering I see it says you may need a wheelchair? In my head I’m thinking not from you, as I’m sure you would like to push me off something. I respond with the no thanks, my ms was currently at bay, and to leave it on my status as I do not know how I will be when I hit Xxxxxxx I can feel the shakes starting, I am at the very max this morning, and the stress is starting to rise. Now I’m thinking ok, you got this and head to security.

Everything is fine as I pass through, then another woman who begins talking to me, as if she has watched one too many reality tv shows is telling me she is confiscating my cane because I am not on it. I am now angry and start with the bombarded emotions inside me trying to keep them at bay. I tell her absolutely not as I have been on this cane since I was 27 and it is set and configured to me. She is full of something, is the way I will describe her.

She tells me I have to come in on my cane and be on it or not have one. Seriously people? I deal with grief and loss every time I have to go on the cane. Yet right now the first woman judged me at check in and didn’t pay attention and now another.

My anger is forming in my eyes as I feel very disrespected. As the lady is dishing I finally say, I am so very sorry that my MS is an inconvenience for you all and I was not on my cane, it was because I didn’t need to be, but I’m sure that will change now. I had to say something.

I am bewildered. She finally gets off her horse and turns more human. I walk through, and all the agents are apologizing as they do not agree with this rule. Each of them coming over with something to say. One gives me the info to complain. I will. She tries to talk to me again and I cannot. I just needed strength as what they didn’t realize was again, they judged me, that morning and they both added a huge weight to my shoulders.

I am the flyer who has everything bagged, pulls it out, proper shoes yet I get stopped at every airport and questioned at security. I asked once, they said it was because I was laughing and smiled. I said bull what was it about me that I am judged for? I still do not know.

Anyways needless to say I am in tears. I just want to be home and go to sleep. I get on the plane and am trying to control the tears, but can’t, they activated the button and it will stop when they are ready to.

Taking off is a challenge as I have permanent vertigo, thank you MS and I am trying to settle my nerves. For a half hour I keep my head down, tears streaming. We do our safety demonstration, and we have the two agents in the front. I hear another agent respond to another guest and I am thinking Dear Lizza, when did customer service get so bad? When did we stop caring for humans?

I am the last person in the front for the front attendant to bring snack items to. The man, Dxxxcm, I remember because he said Dxxxcm with an m, assists me. He has seen that I was tearing.

I order a croissant ham and cheese, and am eating, have my beverage and snacks and he was kind, he says I’m going to check on you to make sure you are good. He showed compassion. Thank you.

He asks me how the sandwich was and I say fabulous, thank you, I am grateful. Just for reference that was a completely dried out hard croissant, but I won’t tell him that because he was showing a wonderful human and caring side, you never let that go unnoticed.

That flight is done, and I am sitting on the plane for the next one to head home. The flight is cancelled. I’m disappointed but hell, I would rather be alive, and I work on blocking out the negativity around me.

Off the plane we go and as I am standing there, another worker who assists on the run way can see something is wrong with me. I’m now shaking, starting to have trouble moving, and nodding. I know I will have to go on my cane soon, as much as I fight it. He tells me not too worry, I don’t need to line up and I can go ahead and sit down. Compassion, thank you.

We receive our instructions and off we go. People trying to get there as fast as possible, me at my pace thinking, I wonder if I have time to see my daughter in xxxxxxx?

Luggage in hand, I’m in line and I can hear the people reprimanding the agents. I get to mine and I say I was going to ask how your day was going but I think I know. She says I was going to ask you the same; we laugh and I remark there is always a reason for things to happen. She realizes about the wheelchair immediately and we chat. I told her I now have to go on my cane, as this morning of flying has done me in. She lets me know to find them and they will assist me if I want them to. I am grateful for her kindness.

I text my daughter, she has no university or work today and I get to see my baby. Off to lunch she whisks me away and I get some bonding time that is so precious with my girl.

When I get back to check in, I head to security and they can see, I am now hunched over, losing my strength, you can see my face has changed. I look awful. They get me into a quick line and then another man sees it’s taking too long and moves me to another.

I cannot even lift my bag up now. This is when I would just sleep all these symptoms away. They help me get my bag and articles put up on the conveyor, complete their checks, find my computer and run it through again. Another lady says we can get you sitting down and then they, as she points can take you where you need to go in their golf cart.

I get settled, packed up and the lady says where I need to go, she will request a wheelchair for me. Here is where I meet Exxx from xxxxxx. Excx and me begin to chat and takes me to the facility. I wait for the wheelchair washroom to watch a able bodied Tsa agent come out and she looks at me in the chair with my cane.

As we walk Exca asks if it’s ok to ask me? I tell her I have MS. She tells me her step mother had it and how she ended up hating life and was angry. We talk about all the things I do, I run a business, I work full time, and about how today I’m like this, but probably in a week I will be working on training for my next running race. We talk about life, and how I see it, with gratitude. She is so very kind and leaves me with some very kind and caring words. That made me tear, I am a cupcake. She didn’t judge me by my book jacket.

So from my day starting out off the wrong foot and ending with the words from her. I was able to see so many good things in a day that started out so wrong.
P.S you owe me a fresh croissant next time I fly.

Love always the not made for flying, Spooktacular Witch

I apologize, I have fixed the formatting and still it comes out not correct, oh well!